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35: Jeju

Taehyung woke first, his body warm and relaxed beneath the weight of Jungkook pressed against him. The morning light was soft, golden, spilling through the curtains and casting a gentle glow over Jungkook’s face. He was still asleep, his breaths slow and steady, his fingers curled slightly against Taehyung’s chest.

Taehyung didn’t move—not yet. Instead, he just watched, taking in the way Jungkook’s lashes fluttered slightly as he dreamed, the way his lips parted just enough for quiet breaths to escape. He looked so peaceful, so unguarded, and something deep in Taehyung’s chest ached at the sight.

Carefully, he lifted a hand, his fingers brushing over Jungkook’s cheek, tracing the soft curve of his jaw. Jungkook shifted slightly but didn’t wake, only pressing closer, his nose rubbing against Taehyung’s collarbone.

Taehyung huffed out a small laugh, barely more than a breath. You’re so damn cute when you sleep, he thought, his fingers threading gently through Jungkook’s hair, massaging slow, soothing circles against his scalp.

After a moment, Jungkook let out a quiet sigh, his brows furrowing slightly before his eyes fluttered open. It took a second for him to focus, for the sleep to fade from his gaze, but when he did—when he looked up and found Taehyung watching him—he blinked, his lips parting in quiet surprise.

“You’re staring,” Jungkook murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Taehyung smiled, lazy and fond. “I like looking at you.”

Jungkook huffed, but the pink dusting his cheeks gave him away. He tucked his face back against Taehyung’s chest, mumbling something Taehyung couldn’t quite catch.

“What was that?” Taehyung teased, his fingers continuing their slow, lazy strokes through Jungkook’s hair.

Jungkook groaned. “I said, shut up.”

Taehyung laughed, the sound low and warm, his chest vibrating beneath Jungkook’s cheek. He shifted slightly, rolling them so that Jungkook was on his back and Taehyung hovered over him, one arm propped up beside his head, his free hand still tangled in Jungkook’s hair.

“Make me,” Taehyung murmured, voice softer now, teasing but tender.

Jungkook looked up at him, his eyes still heavy with sleep but filled with something warm, something unspoken. He lifted a hand, brushing his fingers along Taehyung’s jaw before pulling him down—slow, unhurried—until their lips met.

It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate. It was just them, wrapped in the quiet of the morning, in the warmth of each other. Taehyung sighed into the kiss, letting it linger before pulling back just enough to rest their foreheads together.

“Good morning,” Jungkook whispered this time, softer than before.

Taehyung smiled. “Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his thumb over Jungkook’s cheek. “It really is.”

Just as Taehyung was about to say something more, a voice rang from outside the room—loud and clear.

“Jungkook?”

Both of them froze.

Taehyung’s eyes widened in horror, Jungkook’s entire body going rigid as the realization hit them at the same time. That was his mother’s voice.

“Shit—” Jungkook barely had time to react before they scrambled apart, flinging themselves to opposite ends of the bed just as the door creaked open.

His parents stepped in, their gazes sweeping over the room before settling on their son—and Taehyung, who sat stiffly on the other side of the bed, trying way too hard to look casual.